


life is so precious, and so fleeting (don’t let it pass you by)

by katterv



Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Art, Digital Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, The Flower of Youth (Elder Scrolls Online)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23671015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katterv/pseuds/katterv
Summary: I had WAY TOO MANY FEELINGS about the Flower of Youth quest in ESO so you get a fic and a drawing about it! Humus and Aamos are my old Skyrim RP characters whom I still love dearly.There’s not many people around who know about them so here’s a tiny bit of info: Humus is a wood elf, very outgoing and fun, even carefree, and he feels strongly about many things. Aamos is a dark elf, doesn’t have any family left, he’s mute (psychological issue), fragile and sweet. His health has gotten better after meeting Humus, though! They met when Aamos was staying in Falkreath and the road took Humus there by chance. Their friendship has developed quite a lot since then and now they are visiting/living with Humus’ family in Valenwood.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	life is so precious, and so fleeting (don’t let it pass you by)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't expect anyone else to get much out of this, honestly, but it was very cathartic to write and I'm sharing it because I love what I make u_u
> 
> Title is from Hartmin's dialogue in the quest.

–––

Hartmin smiles, his expression distant, like he’s looking somewhere far away. 

“It’s funny. The flowers meant so much to us when we were young, but at the end, we didn’t need the flowers any more. We had the memories.”

The older bosmer breathes in softly, then looks back up at Humus. 

“These seeds are wonderful though, I realise now their true significance. Thank you, my young friend. I’ll remember you fondly.” 

Humus nods, trying to will his voice steady. 

“May Y'ffre keep you both. Farewell, friend,” he says and manages a thin smile. Hartmin looks at him with understanding and stands up for one final prayer. 

––– 

“Come then, little one,” Humus murmurs to the imgakin by his side as he starts his trek towards the place where he left his mare. Piki follows quietly, soot-black eyes attentively watching the bosmer. Humus knows the monkey is more intelligent than people usually give his kind credit for and he’s grateful for the silent support. 

“We’ll go home,” he whispers, feeling the pin-pricks of tears in the corners of his eyes. _I need to see Aamos,_ he thinks almost feverishly and chortles. It’s a travesty of a laugh, wet and thick. 

His adventures really took him away from Valenwood for too long – he’s become selfish. 

––– 

The ride to Woodhearth isn’t long even when taking no chances with shortcuts and Humus arrives at the stables no worser for the wear. He untacks and quickly brushes Hennikki, throws a loose bale of hay into the pasture and goes to mix her a bowl of molasses. _She deserves it, we’ve been on the road for a while,_ he reasons while eyeing the fairly round stomach of the mare. He then shifts his gaze to his own belly. _Can’t keep being selfish, right?_

Piki startles him out of this thoughts with a high pitched squeak. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you,” Humus laughs and pats his shoulder to give the imgakin permission to jump up. He does and immediately settles onto his neck, keeping balance by setting his small hands on the top of Humus’ head. The bosmer brings the treat to his horse, gathers up his belongings and goes home. 

––– 

They reach the house and Piki skitters off to bully some frogs or whatever it is that little monkeys do when they’re bored. As soon as Humus walks into the kitchen of his family’s home, he is greeted by a cannonball into his middle. Specifically, the head of his darling little sister. 

“Oof! Heledhes, ow, mind your head! You’re getting too big for this!” Humus admonishes his sister as soon as he’s able to breathe again. 

“Never! So, did you bring me anything? Something exciting?” 

Humus chuckles but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Heledhes either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care enough to press him about it. 

“Nothing exciting I’m afraid, but it’s certainly beautiful,” he says and pulls out a flower seed from one of the pouches on his waist. 

Heledhes peers down to look into his hand, frowning. Humus pats her head with his free hand. 

“It’s called Nereid’s Smile and it grows the most beautiful blue flowers. Do you think mother would let you plant it in the garden?” 

––– 

Having survived his sister’s ambush, Humus wanders further into the house and finds his father in his nook of study, nose buried in an old tome. 

“Welcome back,” Taraven greets his son without lifting his head from the book. “Mother went with your brother to talk to some mages about a new potion or some such, if you’re wondering where they are.” 

Humus makes a sound of acknowledgement and leans against the doorframe. 

“You wouldn’t know where Aamos is, then?” 

“Oh, your dunmer friend went to the shore earlier. Wanted to see the Dominion ships I reckon,” the older mer sighs. “Told him not to get too close. Don’t know what’s so great about them, fancy big they are, sure, but not much else. A ship’s a ship, I always say…” The rest of the sentence fades into mumbling as his concentration starts to slip back into the words in front of him. Humus is glad for it. 

“Thanks, father. I’ll go see him.” 

––– 

The salty air feels fresh and prickly on Humus’ skin as he walks closer to the shoreline. Travelling inland is always wonderful, to be surrounded only by foliage, thousands of years old trees and long lost ruins, but Humus grew up here in Woodhearth and the smell of salt, sound of waves and the squeaking of boats and ships rubbing against the wet wood of the docks is truly what makes him feel at home. 

He spots a familiar pale figure tucked up against a rock, facing one of the big ships across the water. Humus stops in his tracks, emotions threatening to get the better of him. 

Aamos is scribbling into one of his bigger notebooks, brow slightly furrowed in concentration as his gaze flits back and forth between the ship and the sketch in his lap. His pale blue complexion doesn’t clash with the bright red of his borrowed tunic as badly as one could think, ash-blond waves of hair tumbling down his narrow shoulders, shifting every time he moves his hand. The dunmer’s bare feet are dug into the warm sand and Humus’ chest swells with affection. 

––– 

“Aamos!” Humus calls out and continues his walk towards the other mer. The dunmer’s ears twitch at the sound of his voice and he’s up on his feet even before getting a glimpse of the approaching bosmer. Aamos smiles so readily at him, wide and bright as anything, and Humus fears his knees will give out from under him. Aamos meets him halfway and the bosmer doesn’t waste time to pull his friend into a tight embrace. Startled but not in a bad way, the dunmer wraps his thin arms around Humus’ middle, nuzzling the top of his head in a questioning manner. 

Humus draws a shuddering breath and shifts back so he’s able to look Aamos in the eye, lifting his hands to cradle the dunmer’s face in between his shaky fingers. The tears are coming now, freely, with no will to hold them back anymore. 

“Aamos, my friend, you know–” Humus swallows thickly, “–you must know that I love you, don’t you?” 

The dunmer’s expression crumbles and he nods frantically, as if he can’t make his head move fast enough. His eyes shining with concern and love and all the other unsaid things he presses a dry, firm kiss onto Humus’ forehead. The shorter mer sobs and Aamos lifts one hand to tuck the precious face into the crook of his neck. He might not know yet what brought this on but – he is certain that Humus will tell him in due time – what his friend needs right now is comfort and Aamos is more than willing to give it to him. He pulls their bodies closer, lets the bosmer wet his tunic with his tears and holds him, holds him, holds him.


End file.
